


of glory and of good

by laure_lie (justawks)



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Actor Bucky, Actor Steve, Alternate Universe - Actors, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Coming Out, Hamlet - Freeform, M/M, Shakespeare, Social Media, high school theatre
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-21
Updated: 2017-08-21
Packaged: 2018-12-18 10:41:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 20,230
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11872638
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/justawks/pseuds/laure_lie
Summary: Steve Rogers cannot escape Bucky Barnes. He’s everywhere. High school was a long time ago, yes, but it’s not easily that you forget your first rival. Bucky Barnes stole the role of Prince Hamlet right out from under Steve’s nose, after all. Ten years later they find themselves in the same position - two actors, with a few scars and a few more secrets - vying for the role of Prince Hamlet in what promises to be the role of a lifetime.





	of glory and of good

**Author's Note:**

> This whole thing came from a weird writing project I did my senior year of high school (during our Hamlet unit) which I found, reread, and then effectively rewrote/expanded as a Stucky fic. My english teacher would be so proud. 
> 
> This is quite literally the longest thing I've ever written in my life, and there are certainly lots of problems with it. I'm constantly in the editing phase of writing, so if you see anything you think should be different, don't hesitate to let me know. 
> 
> The was written for the 2017 Stucky Big Bang. Art is by the wonderful Lulu. 
> 
> Fic info post: http://barnessergeant.tumblr.com/post/164466903095/of-glory-and-of-good-by-laurelie-justawks  
> Art: http://barnessergeant.tumblr.com/image/164427975835

“Sleeping within my orchard,  
My custom always of the afternoon,  
Upon my secure hour thy uncle stole,  
With juice of cursed hebenon in a vial,  
And in the porches of my ears did pour  
The leperous distilment, whose effect  
Holds such an enmity with blood of man  
That, swift as quicksilver, it courses through  
The natural gates and alleys of the body…” 

I.V.64-78, Hamlet, William Shakespeare

+++

Bucky Barnes is everywhere. 

He’s on the billboard outside Steve’s building, on the ads before his YouTube videos, above the water fountain at his goddamn gym. He’s there every time Steve turns on the TV, smiling at some glittering talk show host about his newest movie or dodging bullets in the trailer for his next box office hit. He’s even getting papped leaving buildings Steve’s walking into.

It’s insufferable.

And it’s not just his presence that’s frustrating, it’s the way he looks. He’s seen going for a run, thin t-shirt damp with sweat and clinging to his muscular chest. He’s spotted walking into 5-star restaurants, shoulder length locks pulled back into a low bun, perfectly tailored suit clinging to his physique. 

Bucky Barnes is everywhere, and Steve Rogers can’t escape. 

+++

It goes like this:

Steve had been small and scrawny, holding himself back lest his asthma or his scoliosis or his heart murmur take a turn for the truly life-threatening. Raised by a poor, single mother, friends had been rare and extracurriculars had been even rarer. 

Sports hadn’t really been an option, and he could only entertain himself with academic endeavors for so long. He turned to theatre for a number of reasons, not least of all because it was fun to pretend to be someone else when you had as many worries as he did. 

The theater department at his high school had been sadly lacking in boys, and while Steve was perhaps not a traditional male icon, he was more comfortable donning a fake beard than those that had come before him. He was an instant hit, and his case wasn’t hurt by the fact that he was, all things considered, a good actor. Despite his small frame he could project with force, and he wasn’t afraid to make a fool of himself on stage. He’d spent a good two years as the king of the stage, unabashed and excited to have found himself a place of belonging. 

But then the football team had gone to play an away game in the fall of Steve’s junior year, and Bucky Barnes had taken a hit which had nearly torn his left arm from his body. Four surgeries and a promised lifetime of physical therapy meant his football career, if you could even call it that, was done. Much like Steve, Bucky had needed a distraction. And that was just it, wasn’t it? Bucky was just like Steve, at least in all the ways it counted. 

He wanted to escape his own problems, just like Steve. He thought he’d try acting, just like Steve. He wasn’t half bad, just like Steve. But Bucky Barnes was different in a few key ways as well. He was big, muscular, dark and traditionally handsome. He was overtly masculine, a cis straight white guy who didn’t need platforms in his shoes to even match the height of his female costars. All those parts that had been a stretch for Steve went right to Bucky. Then even the parts that Steve had fit pretty well started going to Bucky, because ticket sales spiked whenever Bucky was cast as a lead. 

It had been fine, really, because Steve still had his friends and he still got parts, even if they weren’t as big as before. He could still pretend to be someone else, someone different with different problems and a different life. He managed to bottle up any bitterness he had, tuck it away for nights when his mom was working the late shift and his homework was done, where he could let it out in peace. 

Besides, he still had Hamlet. 

Every year for the past 16 years, his high school had done a seniors-only production of Hamlet as a last hurrah for the graduating students. Acted, staged, directed, lighted all by seniors, it was their most popular production each year, despite the fact that little changed production to production. As the most active senior boy, especially as one who thrived in Shakespeare, Steve was a shoe-in for Prince Hamlet. 

Or so he’d thought.

Even today, the day the cast list came out is rivaled only by the day his mother died as the worst day of his life.

It might seem silly to someone else, to care so much about one role in a sea of roles, but Hamlet was supposed to be his. Should have been his. But Steve Rogers was right next to Laertes on the cast list, and there was nothing he could do. 

(And yes, his portrayal of Laertes had led to an interview at Juilliard, which is how he met Natasha. And yes, it got him into Yale, his dream school since always. But he was 18 and clueless and filled with righteous anger.)

Life goes on, though. They both go to college - Steve to Yale and Bucky to Rutgers, not that Steve paid special attention or anything. They both study abroad in London, Steve learns, but there’s no crossover and thus no awkward chat over coffee about how college is going. 

(Steve gets to be Prince Hamlet in London, too, so take that Bucky Barnes.) 

He comes back to the U.S. the spring of his senior year, and so the next thing he knows he’s a college graduate let loose on the world. Despite some of his early struggles, including the death of his mother sophomore year of college, Steve is a pretty optimistic guy. So when it comes time to start looking for work, he’s pretty confident he’ll get something. 

He turns out to be wrong. 

Steve is just too small. He’s got a powerful voice and good presence, and he’s been told countless time he’s a joy to work with, at least comparatively. But he’s just too tiny to pair well with other actors, especially those 5’9’’ beauty queens everyone keeps casting. So he starts working out all the goddamn time, because that’s what Natasha said he needed to do and he trusts her with his life. He starts bulking up after the first couple months, and gains about 6 inches three years too late. He starts getting parts - little bit parts in commercials and sitcoms, but they’re parts - and he starts making money and life is good. He gets the offer for the movie, and decides to bite the bullet and go for it. It can’t be that bad, right? 

Oh, but it is. 

He hates it in a way he hasn’t hated anything else. Thanks to his freshly sculpted pectorals he has to take his shirt off a contractually-mandated once per scene, and there’s no identifiable story, just explosions and guns and topless girls. He gets a shockingly large paycheck and gets to go on GMA which is kind of fun, but otherwise it feels like all of his dreams have been a lie.

It feels a bit like somewhere, deep inside him, the old Steve, the tiny Steve, is screaming “I told you so!” with glee. Steve had changed himself to fit some standard, some ideal image, and look what it had brought him: disappointment and insecurity. And the worst part was, he couldn’t defend the film, or even his own performance, to all the critics. It was a bad movie. And, through some combination of terrible writing and his own personal discomfort at being treated like an object, he had done a bad job of acting in the movie. That knowledge, that he’d done a bad job, is perhaps his only saving grace. He does not rise to the bait of the media, does not pick up the phone when they call, because he agrees, and they leave him alone when they don’t get the story they were hoping for. 

And so he decides to lay low for a while. He tucks away that large check into a few safe places, only taking what he needs for rent and groceries and his gym membership. His shirts fit a bit better, and his smile gets a bit wider, and he starts thinking that maybe, just maybe, he wasn’t really cut out for this acting thing after all. 

+++

He has a favorite treadmill. It’s to the far left of the gym, tucked away into a corner. It’s got a clear view down to the street below, perfect for observing the passersby as he jogs. There’s a movie theater across the street too. Steve likes to watch the lights twinkle and the brightly colored posters reflect the glare of the sun and let his mind go numb as he jogs.

(There’s something comforting about the rhythmic pounding of his feet against the conveyor belt that no other form of exercise really seems to provide.) 

The treadmill is close to the water fountain, and the perfect distance away from the speakers so that the shitty music the gym plays is just loud enough to drown out the hum of the machines but not so loud that he is forced to really listen to it. 

He walks into the gym one day (a Tuesday, his cardio day, because Steve is nothing if not a man of routines) mind full of everything else he has to do. The lamp in the living room needs new bulbs, but Steve can’t remember when the hardware store closes. He steps onto the treadmill, slips on his earbuds, and looks up. He freezes.

There, across the street, are three huge posters with James fucking Barnes’ face all over them. In one he’s got dirt smudged on his cheekbone and wind-mussed hair. In the next he’s clean cut, wearing a gaudy crown, steely look in his eyes. In the last there’s a prosthetic slash across his left eye, about six inches long and bloody. The Risen King is written in bold red across the top of all three.

Steve tries, he really does. He blinks to clear the image from his head and starts up the treadmill. Just focus, he thinks to himself. A quick jog and you’re done. 

But twenty minutes into his workout and he has to stop. He can’t keep staring at James’ face like this.

“It’s ridiculous,” he mutters to himself. “You don’t need three posters.”

He steps off the machine and heads to the weight rack in the opposite corner, far away from any windows. He’s at the gym already, might as well put that gas money to good use.

But he is unsettled for the rest of the day, so much so that he forgets about the hardware store entirely. It truly does feel like he is being followed--or perhaps haunted is a better word--by Bucky Barnes, success story of Western High School and constant reminder of what Steve’s career could have been. 

+++

Although it’s true that without a contract riding on his physique the temptation to shrink back down is high, Steve does his best to stay “big.” If he’s being honest with himself, he actually does like working out when he’s doing it for reasons other than to maintain a contract. 

He had felt pretty neutral about his local 24 Hour Fitness when he had originally moved to the neighborhood, having simply signed up because it seemed convenient. The incident with the three posters serves to highlight some issues he hadn’t really realized he had with the place, however, and his satisfaction with the place decreases dramatically. 

The location is inconvenient, in terms of where he is in the neighborhood on a regular day, and the parking is terrible. Their selection of weights is surprisingly limited, and the sauna is always, always broken. He’s paying a bit more than he’d like for the actual services he’s getting, so he starts shopping around for other fitness center options. 

It only takes two or three days before he finds it.

There’s a public rec center down the block from his apartment. He first shows up for a neighborhood council meeting (he pays good money to live in this area and he will not allow a bunch of homophobes to set up shop across the street, thank you very much), but finds he likes the friendly, small-town vibes the center gives off. Mary, who runs the athletics department as well as the second-hand art supply store three blocks over, gives him a quick tour of the facilities. He signs up for a membership that very night, and spends his workout-free evenings learning to embroider or running bingo games. 

The center has an excellent selection of machines for such a seemingly low-budget operation, and a wide variety of fitness and recreation classes open to all members. Steve has always been a big city kid, but the tight-knit community of the rec center fulfills some unknown and internal desire to live in something closer to a small town. 

He starts learning to dance through some community-taught ballroom lessons, and finds he likes the quick-footed foxtrot the best. He’s a bit too large and bulky to make a natural dancer, but he can achieve a certain degree of grace if he focuses hard enough. 

He meets Sam at one of the dance classes. He’s got a wide smile and broad shoulders, and he laughs easier than anyone Steve has ever met. He started taking these classes with his mother, as a birthday gift to her, but found he quite liked ballroom, and certainly had a knack for it. Steve introduces himself with a shy smile, and the next thing he knows they are sitting across from one another at a Starbucks. 

It is...odd. Sam is kind, and handsome, and interested in Steve. Those three things should surely be enough. But somehow, it is not. They exchange numbers once their coffees have gone cold, but with the understanding that there will likely not be a second date. 

(Steve does not really know how to feel about the whole thing. He has not had someone interested in him in a long, long time. He rarely goes out, and has a hard time openly flirting because he still thinks of himself as tiny and unattractive, nevermind that others have always found him to be handsome, size notwithstanding.)

That should be the end of it. But they see each other the next week at the dance class, and again on Fridays during lap swim. And then they meet again at the gym. They strike up a friendship. It starts with coffee on the weekends, chatting about their childhoods and their work; Steve does freelance illustration, but has enough money left from his one and only film, as well as his mother’s life insurance, that he likely could not work for the next decade and still manage. Sam, on the other hand, works as a counselor and administrator at the nearby VA. They quickly transition to (platonic, friendly, lovely) dinners once a week, and the occasional sports game when they both have the time. 

Months pass. They move into a small, two-bedroom apartment closer to Sam’s work at the VA. They do laundry on Sunday evenings, and Sam helps Steve find work for health magazines and local businesses, and they are friends in a way Steve has never had friends before. There is Natasha, his agent-slash-friend who he only really ever sees through a computer screen, but there are many things Steve does not share with her, and many more she does not share with him.

(Steve tries very hard not to think about the fact that Sam has never seen “small” Steve. It does not always work.)

Life is good, for Steve and for Sam and for the two of them together.

But then, as always, there is Bucky Barnes. 

+++

ACTOR JAMES BARNES SPLITS WITH AGENCY AFTER HEATED CONTRACT DEBATE  
Published March 28, 10:38 am

American actor James Barnes has seen a great deal of success in recent years. After getting his start on the critically-acclaimed family drama The Five Sons of Michael, the star who is called “Bucky” by close friends and family began work on the silver screen. A string of successes in romantic comedies and the occasional drama led to a 10-year contract with renowned HYDRA Talent.

A recent statement from HYDRA Talent has revealed that James “Bucky” Barnes, the Brooklyn-born actor best known for his work in historical drama-turned-thriller The Risen King, has chosen to break contract and leave the HYDRA Talent “family”. 

“We’re absolutely devastated,” said a rep from HYDRA over the phone this morning. “James was a valued and important member of our family here at HYDRA. He is amazingly talented, and we were so looking forward to seeing what his career could have become. While we’re upset at the loss, it is important to acknowledge that not everyone is cut out for fame. The demands of this business really took a toll on James, and we have to respect that he’s making the best choice for himself. We wish him the best, of course.”

The actor released a statement on his Twitter account earlier this morning:

James Barnes @JBBarnes  
pic.twitter/334288_23

...I’m grateful for everything HYDRA has done for me in the years we’ve worked together. Without a doubt, their assistance has grown my career far beyond what I ever hoped to imagine. Although it may sound a little egocentric to say, fame does bring a certain degree of responsibility. Recently I had someone close to me remind me of something very important. Like most actors, artists, and creators, I started this job because it was something I loved. Acting has long been a passion for me, and the fact that I was able to take a high school hobby and turn it into a career will forever be humbling to me. I want to create movies that have a message, that move people. My goal is not, and has never been, to make money. While I have great respect for what HYDRA can do, I feel that at this time we want different things for me and for my career. After speaking to numerous attorneys, it was agreed that the smarter move was to violate my contract and leave HYDRA’s clientele, rather than remain with them for the duration of my contract. While I wish things had gone differently, I thank you all for the support, and look forward to what the future will bring. 

+++

Bucky Barnes has been a lot of things in Steve Roger’s life. A nuisance, a rival, a peer. Now, he might just be right. 

+++

“WORK OUT OF LOVE,” AND OTHER WISE WORDS FROM ACTOR JAMES BARNES  
Written by Oliver James, published April 16, 2:50 pm

I think I can say with reasonable certainty that most of you have heard of James “Bucky” Barnes. The Five Sons of Michael, the television drama about the complexly broken family of serial-adulterer Michael Stewart is a favorite of nearly all of my friends. For those who are more movie-inclined, the historical drama-thriller-adventure masterpiece The Risen King is the top-grossing film of the year thus far. As of last month, things were going well - very well - for Barnes. So why give it up? Why leave HYDRA Talent, the agency poised to shoot Barnes into super-stardom? That was one of many questions I asked Barnes when I sat down with him earlier this week. 

We spoke in a Starbucks in the lobby of Barnes’ LA apartment building. He claims we won’t be bothered there, and it proves to be true. There is recognition in the eyes of the barista, but she is nothing but friendly, greeting him with a warm “hello” and taking our orders without fuss. The same is true for the other patrons, who give us a passing smile but nothing more. 

“I come here all the time, obviously,” Barnes says once we’ve taken a seat. “I think they’re all bored of my by now.”

He is charming and kind and handsome, everything you would expect a movie star to be. His trademark dark hair is pulled back and he’s wearing jeans and a t-shirt. He has a few rings on his fingers, a thin gold chain around his neck, and a brightly colored braided bracelet, “from my sister,” he says with a smile. 

I want to start off with an easy question, so I ask what his favorite role has been to date. 

“Ohhh, that’s a good one,” he says immediately. “I think I have two, can I have two?” 

I nod, and he continues. “Okay, well, professionally, I think my favorite role has been Rich [Richard Stewart from Sons of Michael]. That show was such a blast. Everyone was so brilliant, so talented, and the script was great. I really like television. I hadn’t ever done TV before that, and it was a great introduction. Plus, I see a lot of myself in Rich. My family isn’t quite that crazy, but, um, yeah, he reminded me a lot of myself.” 

He pauses to take a sip of his coffee, an iced latte with soy.

“Outside of my professional work, um, I really loved playing Prince Hamlet. I did that senior year of highschool. I kind of stumbled into acting during school, and Hamlet was a huge deal, our big senior production. It was such an honor to be cast, and the show was so fun to do. That was the first time I really felt like, hey, okay, I could do this for real. Honestly, some of my favorite co-stars were in that show with me. High school theater kids are f---ing awesome. They’re something else. So yeah, Prince Hamlet.” 

Would he do more Shakespeare in a professional capacity? 

“Oh definitely, if the opportunity arose. I love historical, period-drama type stuff. That’s what made The Risen King so fun to do. The production quality was insane. But yeah, I’d be so down to do more Shakespeare. I did some stuff when I was training in London. I’d love to do more. Macbeth, maybe. I always loved that one.”

I wonder if he has any other dream roles. He shakes his head. 

“I’ve got a thing about, like, dream roles or an ideal career. It freaks me out. I’m just happy to work. I love acting. I don’t want to limit myself, or, like, always be comparing what I’m actually doing to what I want to be doing, you know?”

He makes a good point. But ambition and success have always gone hand-in-hand, it seems, especially for actors. Long-term contracts, like the one Barnes recently left with HYDRA Talent, are the dream of many hopeful young stars. They mean a certain degree of job security, and a relatively even flow of money. They mean a staff dedicated to helping you further your career. Why give that up?

“It’s complicated, for me, which I realize is a lame answer. Contracts are great, and HYDRA is great, and it wasn’t an easy decision for me to make. But I was talking with a friend, complaining about work and about the parts I was getting and he kind of shut me down, like, he told me: ‘What are you doing? What are you saying? This isn’t you. You love acting.’ And that true. I do love acting. And I never wanted to become the money-obsessed actor who takes boring parts because they pay well. HYDRA really has a focus on ‘cultivating fame’ they call it. It’s about the image, and what the image does to the size of the paycheck. That’s great, that’s awesome, but it wasn’t for me. You have to work for love, you have to work out of love for what you’re doing. And it didn’t seem like there was a way for me to do that without leaving HYDRA.”

There have been, in the past few weeks, numerous allegations about why specifically Barnes left HYDRA, and why now. He was in talks to star in a still-unnamed five-film action franchise, and with the breaking of his contract that offer has disappeared. Some claim that substance abuse issues led to the fiasco. Others say HYDRA let him go, but are simply making it look like Barnes was the one to break contract. I hate to add fuel to the gossip flame, but I want answers just as much as the next Barnes fan. So what was it? Drugs? Was he fired? When I ask, Barnes answers with a dry laugh. 

“See this, this right here is what I wanted to avoid. I know gossip is gossip, and I don’t blame you for asking, but, like, I don’t know. Honestly, honestly, it wasn’t substance issues. And I wasn’t just let go. I call it a difference in vision. What I wanted for myself wasn’t what HYDRA wanted for me, it turned out. Something had to change.”

Well, there you go, folks. Something had to change. 

With my last question, our conversation has grown tense. I realize I may have pushed things too far. Does he have any last words of advice?

“I think...and this can kind of work for anyone, but, if there’s something you love to do, and I mean truly love, you should...pursue it, I suppose, as best you can. Look at your priorities, obviously, but I’ve always thought it was worth it to make a little less money, live with a few less comforts, and be able to do something which brings you joy. I’m really fortunate that acting and money can go hand in hand, but even if they didn’t, without a doubt I would still be acting or involved in the theater in whatever capacity I could.”

The Risen King will be available for streaming and DVD purchase on the first of August. The first three seasons of The Five Sons of Michael are currently available on Netflix. 

+++

Steve Rogers, since the first time he stepped on a stage, has loved acting. He loves theater. He could learn to love film. It seems silly to let one bad film end his career before he’s given it a full shot. He’d been able to get steady work before the film, trivial as it had been. He’s financially stable. He has nothing better to do. And he knows that he’s a better actor than that one bad film showed him to be. Why not? 

And so he tries again. 

It goes like this:

He feels something settle in his gut, like a breath being released or a sip of hot coffee sliding down his throat, when he walks into that first audition. It goes okay, definitely not his best, but he can’t stop smiling for the next few days. He forgot just how much he loves this, how good it feels to pretend to be someone else. He can’t explain it, really, but he finally feels like himself again.

It is slow going, at first. He doesn’t have an agent, not really, just his friend Natasha telling him about parts she thinks he’d be good for. He wants to do this right this time. He feels less naive, somehow, now that he knows how this works. He researches the parts, pays attention to accents and backstory and appearance. He doesn’t audition for things he isn’t excited about, and it works in his favor. 

He gets cast in his first part in fourteen months and he feels like flying. 

It’s a bit part in a low-budget independent film made by two newly-graduated film students. One of them knows someone who knows someone who got them access to nice equipment, but there’s minimal money and the smallest production crew Steve has ever seen. He loves it. 

(He never had the chance, as a kid, to screw around and make skits or short films with his friends. Working on this film is what he imagines that would have been like, carefree and inspiring in a way a lot of his other professional work hasn’t been.)

He plays a guy named Jake who lets the main character, a scrawny runaway who stole money from his asshole stepfather, stay in his apartment for a few nights. The lead character is played by Peter, a baby-faced seventeen-year-old with a bright smile and big eyes. Steve is only on set for a few days, and he only makes a couple hundred bucks, but it feels right in the way all those commercials and action movies before had felt wrong. 

Peter has an agent, a real agent, who likes Steve enough that he calls him up a few weeks later with an offer. His name is Tony, and he has more money than anyone Steve has ever met in his life. Tony says he believes in him, though, which is a nice sentiment. He offers his services, free of charge, in exchange for a thank you if he ever makes it onto the stage at an awards show. Steve thinks he’s joking at first, agrees to the deal with a laugh because no one does that, no one offers to help you for free, especially in Hollywood. But two weeks later there’s an email from Tony in his inbox, script attached, telling him about an open audition. There’s another email the next day. And the next.

And so he goes. 

They’re all low budget indie films, but Steve loves them anyways. The crews are always so kind, so passionate, so excited to be working and creating and making. It’s the kind of enthusiasm Steve feeds off of. 

He’s still “big,” still chiseled and blond and All-American. He has the look they all want, and he’s comfortable enough in his own skin now to fully slip into character and let go of some of the tension he held before. And so he gets cast. 

He runs lines with Sam on the weekends, spends his days on set or at the rec center gym, and falls asleep every night with a smile on his face. 

To be honest, he sort of stumbles into working - acting - full-time again. He never really puts a limit or a goal on the number of parts he takes, just signs on to things when he thinks they’d be a good fit. What starts as one film every few months, a commercial or short film or bit part sprinkled in between, soon becomes a movie every month or so, as time allows. 

There’s a story to these movies, real emotion and real life and real characters. The crew is always amazing, so kind and passionate and dedicated. Acting is fun again, even when he’s forced to swim through freezing rivers or get covered in fake blood or get in screaming arguments. It’s not always smiling and laughing but it is fun. 

He starts getting into bigger and bigger stuff. His name gets passed around, maybe, or he just gets lucky, but one film and a guest role on TV turns into a three-movie deal and a recurring character. 

It doesn’t seem like a big deal at first, just more work and less free time, but then he starts getting attention. It’s just a few incidents with fans coming up to him while he’s at lunch or taking his picture when he’s out for a run, but it’s disconcerting in a way he wasn’t expecting. He’d thought, for some reason, that he’d know when he was classified as famous. He wasn’t expecting, like, a phone call or a card in the mail, but he’d always thought he’d be able to look at his career, reflect, and see for himself when it is that he finally became famous, with all of the lifestyle changes that entails.

And the thing is, he isn’t getting articles written about him in newspapers. He’s not going to award shows or nightclubs and networking while drinking the night away. He wakes up and goes to work and then comes home to his best friend and his tiny apartment. He’d always thought that his lifestyle would change before he started getting recognized as something other than a “regular” guy.

As it really happens, though, he feels uncomfortable and awkward when he’s recognized in public. He always says hi, take a photo when asked, because he’s not a dick, but it makes his skin crawl, like he’s being watched. And maybe he starts going out a little less, always sure to have sunglasses and a baseball cap in hand. It’s fine, really, it’s not like he went out often, so it’s not a big change. 

It’s worth it, he reminds himself. You love acting, this is just part of the deal.

It feels like a lie, even as he thinks it. 

+++

It begins, in earnest, like this:

He gets the call on a Monday. It’s late morning, and he has just gotten out of a post-workout shower at his and Sam’s apartment. His phone is on his bed, charging, when he hears it ring. He grabs a towel from the rack--ratty and white, one of the few remaining from the first set of towels he purchased as a real adult after graduating from college--and hurries to grab the phone. 

“Hello?” he queries. His voice is hoarse, throat still a bit parched from his run. He coughs, quietly, in hopes of dispelling the roughness.

“Good morning. I’m calling for Steve Rogers?”

Fear and worry work their way into his mind. It is not so often that he gets calls from unfamiliar numbers asking for him by name, not since his mother was first hospitalized all those years ago. 

“This is Steve,” he says, doing his very best to keep his voice steady, neutral, calm. 

“Well, Steve, my name is Richard Harrison.” 

The name is said as though it carries weight, that he should recognize it upon mention. He wracks his mind, but it is unfamiliar. 

“I’m sorry, Mr. Harrison, but I don’t--”

“Oh, no worries, I wasn’t really expecting you to recognize the name. I’m a colleague of Tony Stark.” 

This name, again, is said with an air of expectation. He knows this name, though. 

“Oh! You know Tony?”

“I do,” the man says calmly. “In fact, I’m working on a project right now, a movie, and we’re looking for male actors for the lead. Tony gave me your name, thought you’d be a good fit. I’d be happy to send you a script via e-mail….if you’d be interested in reading for the role?”

There is a rushing sound, creeping up his spine and seeping in from behind his ears. Everytime he goes to an audition, any time he gets even a little bit part in a silly sitcom, his body reacts like he’s just won the lottery. 

“Oh, um, wow! I’d love to! I’ll have to take a look at my schedule, first--”

“Of course, Mr. Rogers. I can leave you me contact information?”

“That would be perfect.”

+++

And so then it is like this:

He gets cast in Richard’s movie, this hit indie flick. Low budget, low pressure, but people love it. It wins festival after festival, gets coverage on all sorts of media shows. It’s kinda pretentious, sure, but it’s kinda meaningful too. 

People--reviewers, fans, critics--all say it makes them feel something. And man oh man, does that hit Steve right in the gut. All he’s ever wanted to do, to be able to consider his career a success, to say that everything he had done and given had brought him something in return, was to make people feel something with his work. And here he is, basically still a kid, stumbling his way into a hugely successful film that lets him do just that. It’s amazing.

He keeps expecting the fervor to die down. It was a good movie, sure, and he’s certainly proud of it, but it barely cost anything to make, and billed a bunch of no-name actors like him. 

Whatever it is that appeals to people so much, it holds over until awards season starts. There are group interviews on talk shows, individual interviews on radio and TV, and of course red carpet after red carpet. Steve gets a stylist (a stylist!) to shove him into designer suit after designer suit. He walks his heels raw in brand-spanking-new Italian leather. He’s handed flutes of free champagne, shakes hands with people he’s watched on screen since he was a child, and rides in more limos than he’d ever thought possible. 

It all feels like a dream. 

And then the offers for parts start rolling in. It’s hard to explain, but:

Steve has had a healthy skepticism for most of his life. He’s been in this business for a few years, and before that he was alone for a long time, and even before that he was physically small and vulnerable and naive. When he first starts getting the calls and emails, asking him to read a script or audition or just plain offering him a part, without even an audition, he assumes they’re fake. He’s good, but he’s not that good, and either way this sounds like a great way to have all his life savings (minimal as they are) stolen away.

But Tony Stark is good at his job. And so is Steve, reluctant as he is to believe it. The two of them combined, and Steve’s career begins to take off in earnest. 

And life is good, really good. Sometimes Steve feels like he is vibrating out of his skin, and sometimes, he is loathe to admit, he is lonely. Having a social life made up of Sam and Natasha has always been enough, but now that he is working 6 days a week, out seeing new things and meeting new people, he feels constantly aware of how alone he is. Regardless, he is doing something he enjoys and he is doing good work. 

But goddamn Bucky Barnes is everywhere.

It takes him a long while to figure out why it is that Bucky bothers him so much. He certainly doesn’t hate him, and any left over animosity from high school has long since been dispelled in light of their separate but equally satisfactory successes thus far. It actually takes a late night with Sam and one too many rum-and-cokes before he realizes that Bucky reminds him of a past he was trying to outrun.

By all accounts Bucky looks the same as in high school. He is older, sure, more adult, and he has grown into his features. He is handsome, now, and a man, but the core of his appearance has remained unchanged. Steve, on the other hand, hardly recognizes himself sometimes when he looks in the mirror. He is twice the weight, and nearly a foot taller. No longer does he wheeze when climbing a flight of stairs, or get sidelined for a week by a common cold. It is not a bad thing, in his mind, but he must admit he has come as close to being a different person as physically possible. And whenever he sees Bucky, at parties or premieres or nightclubs, or when he turns on his TV and sees him being interviewed, it takes Steve back to a period of time in which he felt vulnerable, and to which he would not like to return. 

(And the other part, the part he tries not to think about, is how seeing Bucky in expensive suits and a sly smile as he walks the red carpet, or sheer unbuttoned shirts, shining with sweat and with a glass in his hand, makes him feel, deep and low in his gut. It is want, heady and heavy and something Steve has not really felt, he doesn’t think, in a long while.) 

It is fine, at first, when he is only seeing Bucky across a crowd or through a screen. But somewhere in the time Steve started noticing Bucky, Bucky started noticing him right back. They start exchanging familiar nods now, when their eyes meet across crowds.

It happens frequently enough for Steve to notice things, to learn them. 

Bucky never wears ties or fully buttons his shirts, even at the nicest of events. He prefers clear liquors, vodka especially, and won’t touch wine. He can dance for hours, and never stays at one afterparty for more than thirty minutes. 

Despite seeing and knowing all these things, they never manage to meet in person, always seeming to miss each other at events and parties. 

The day they finally do meet again in person, after nearly ten years, it’s not even for a part. 

Steve has been sent by Natasha to pick up some paperwork she needs to sign for an upcoming project. He enters the building and asks for the contract office. The receptionist directs him to a small office across the hall. The door is closed, but unlocked when he tries the handle. He pushes the door open and steps into the room. 

The office is quiet, so quiet that he almost doesn’t notice the figure standing near the windows. The figure turns, and Steve’s mind is a blur of long hair, leather jacket, tight jeans until he realizes with a jolt that the body in front of him is familiar.

“Bucky!” 

It bursts out of him, unprompted. Bucky’s brow furrows. 

“I recognize you.” His voice is hesitant, questioning. “Have we met?”

Steve feels himself flush. Of course he doesn’t recognize him. Maybe it’s his outfit: jeans and a t-shirt rather than his usual suit. And never mind the fact that they haven’t actually spoken in over ten years. While Steve has been weirdly obsessing over Bucky since high school, Bucky has been getting on with his life.

“Uh, sorry--Steve. I’m, um, Steve Rogers. We went to highschool together?”

Recognition dawns in Bucky’s eyes. 

“No fucking way. I knew you looked familiar.” His voice trails off, and he lets his eyes wander up and down Steve’s form. “Steve Rogers, huh? You certainly grew up nice.” He says it with a wink, and Steve feels himself flush deeper. 

“Uh, thanks. You too.”

Bucky throws his head back and laughs. It makes his features look lighter, softer.

“I’ve seen you at award shows and things. I guess I never put two and two together.”

Steve feels himself shrug. “Yeah, I look a bit different now.”

“You certainly do.” There is a long pause. “I saw you in Impossible Other, by the way. Thought you were brilliant.”

He’s blushing again, can feel the heat in his cheeks and the bright pressure behind his eyes and under his chin. “Oh, um, thank you. People seem to really like it.”

Bucky gives him a look. “You mean they seem to really like you, acting in it.”

Steve looks down at the ground. “Maybe, yeah. I’ve kinda tried to stay away from press and stuff, I don’t want to get all caught up in that stuff…”

Bucky nods, like he understands what Steve is referring to. Come to think of it, he probably does. Bucky’s had to deal with the press a lot lately, saying all sorts of things about what kind of person he is and what kinds of things he gets up to when he’s not fully in the public eye. 

“What are you here for?” Steve asks without thinking. He should just drop off the forms and go, he doesn’t need to be lingering here like this. But he likes talking to Bucky, wants to know more about him rather than obsessing from afar. 

Bucky sighs. “I’m meeting with some producers from this project. They’re riding my ass about this press junket thing I have to miss. They want to try and reschedule. It’s so dumb.” He sighs again, swiping a hand through his hair. “How about you?”

Steve starts. He hadn’t considered having to answer his own question. “Oh, I’m just dropping off some stuff for a friend.” He chuckles nervously. “Which, speaking of, I should probably do and get on my way, so…”

He trails off, eyes quickly scanning the room, trying to find a good place to leave the forms. He settles on the empty desk chair, crossing the room in two wide strides, setting the papers down, and quickly retreating to the doorway.

Steve looks back, and sees Bucky watching him with dark eyes, odd expression on his face. “It was nice meeting you--or, I guess, talking to you again. I’ll, um, see you around?”

Bucky nods, smiles faintly. “I’ll see you around, Steve.”

Steve walks out of the room and back to his car, face burning and heart pounding. Well, he thinks, that went well. Very smooth.

+++

Katey Smith @katattack  
Just saw #ImpossibleOther and let me tell you...it was amazing!

Brian Esposito @flyingpancakes  
Highly, highly recommend #ImpossibleOther - so good!

+++

INTERVIEW WITH ‘IMPOSSIBLE OTHER’ STAR STEVE ROGERS  
Written by Kate Robillard, published January 11

Last week, I had the amazing opportunity to sit down with hunky actor and lead in the new smash hit, Impossible Other, Steve Rogers. Known for his bulging arm muscles and somewhat reclusive behavior, it was a rare and exciting honor to be able to interview the 27-year-old actor. I scoured the web for your most burning questions.

Kate Robillard: Hi Steve, so nice to meet you. 

Steve Rogers: It’s so nice to meet you as well, Kate. How are you?

KR: I’m good, thanks. And yourself?

SR: I’m doing pretty well.

KR: I’m glad to hear it. So, first off, congratulations on Impossible Other. It’s such a wonderful film, and you were fantastic in it. 

SR: Thank you, thank you. I’m glad to hear you liked it. Everyone in the film was so fantastic. It was a wonderful project to be a part of. 

KR: And I can’t imagine that the career boost hasn’t been nice, either.

SR: *laughs* That’s true. I haven’t been a part of anything that’s been big like Impossible Other has been big before. It’s been fun. I’ve enjoyed all the press and parties and stuff. 

KR: I’m glad to hear that. Now, and I’m curious to hear your answer, what is it that drew you to Impossible Other? It’s very different from most of your previous work. 

SR: It is pretty different than a lot of my other work, but it’s closer to what I really want to be doing? Or, I should say, what I really enjoy doing, in terms of character work and stuff. I love people-centric, or I guess character-centric stories. Action films or dystopia stories or whatever, those are all really fun stories, but they tend to be more about the whole world, the setting, rather than the people within it. 

KR: That makes sense. Do you prefer characters that are like you? Characters that you can connect with?

SR: *laughs* The complete opposite, actually. The idea of pretending to be someone else is actually what really appealed to me about acting in the first place. 

KR: Speaking of getting into acting, can you tell me a little bit about yourself, about your story--so to speak?

SR: Sure, although I’m not sure it’ll be very interesting. I was born in Summit, New Jersey, but I spent a lot of my childhood in and around New York City. Brooklyn, mostly. I was a super scrawny, skinny kid, so sports and stuff weren’t really an option. I joined theater in high school, met a lot of really cool people. I really loved theater in high school, and I absolutely recommend it to any high schoolers out there. 

KR: Hear that, guys? Theater, Steve Rogers approved. 

SR: *laughs* Certainly. I loved it so much I decided to study it in college, so that’s what I did. 

KR: Where did you go to school?

SR: Yale, actually, which was wild. I studied English Literature and Theatrical Performance. I studied in London for a year, which was super cool. I really loved that as well. That’s how I got so into Shakespeare. 

KR: You’re a big Shakespeare fan?

SR: Oh, absolutely. It’s such a fun type of theater to do, for me, for some reason. Kind of nostalgic, for some reason. 

KR: Now, and I have to ask this, any special someone in your life?

SR: *shakes head* Sadly, no, unless you count my roommate, Sam. We’re close, but not like that. *laughs*

KR: Well, Steve, you’ve made a lot of days with that answer. 

SR: I have?

KR: Oh, certainly. You’re considered to be one of Hollywood’s most eligible bachelors, according to the Internet. 

SR: Oh. *laughs* Well, that’s very kind. 

KR: I’m glad to hear you think so. 

Impossible Other is a story of growth, challenge, and triumph. When a catastrophic car accident catapults Jeremy Wade (Steve Rogers) into a completely new world, he must use his wits, his wisdom, and the support of others to make a new life for himself in this impossible Other. 

Impossible Other is out now in theaters nationwide. Visit www.impossibleotherfilm.com for more information. 

+++

If Steve Rogers has tried to be anything during his short life, it’s been a good person. From a young age, his mother has stressed to him the importance of being kind, being grateful, being humble. Things have come easy for him, for the most part, and he does his best to make things easier for others. 

He’s not a very subtle man, and hard as he tries to be, and his large stature doesn’t do him any favors in terms of hiding his coming-and-going from the press. He is seen on his various excursions: to the rec center to teach classes in self defense with Sam, to the local food shelter with heavy bags of supplies to donate, exiting the local homeless shelter after spending the afternoon helping in the kitchens. The press eat it up.

Here he is, a beautiful and talented young man, helping others. There is speculation. Does he want to clean up his image? Does he have a sordid past full of suffering? People want to know why. 

The why is easy, for Steve.

His early life had been difficult, yes. There is nothing easy about being raised by a single parent, or chronic illness, or being the victim of bullying, or experiencing the premature death of a parent. He would never belittle his own experiences or the experiences of others by calling his childhood easy. But people in the world have it much worse than he does now. He has a home, and fulfilling work, and good friendships. The least he can do is help bring any one of those things to others less fortunate than he. 

+++

It takes time, but he works up to volunteering at the center for LGBT+ outreach in his neighborhood. It feels too close to an admission, at first, for him to feel comfortable going when he can and will be seen. It’s selfish, he knows, but he consoles himself by taking extra shifts at the rec center and doing his best to quiet his guilty conscience. 

Eventually, though, the press lose interest in all his humanitarian outings. He isn’t saying anything about it, and he’s hasn’t been caught doing anything salacious. So they leave him alone. 

And so he goes.

+++

All in all, things are going well. He’s getting work, making money. Some projects speak to him more than others. Some parts he wants more than others. 

He gets the call on a Tuesday, in the early afternoon. He’s sitting at a table outside of a Starbucks, iced coffee in hand. The number is unfamiliar but he picks up his phone after the first ring anyway; he’s always on edge when he’s waiting to hear about a part. 

“Hello?” he answers.

“Hi, Steve,” says a rough voice. “This is Ray, from Marvelous Media. It’s about the role in Under the Bridge.”

Steve feels himself hold his breath. 

“We really loved your auditions, but unfortunately we’re gonna go with someone else. We really enjoyed what we saw, but we weren’t sure it was right for the part.”

The breathe releases in a rush. 

A year ago, this kind of news would have sent him into a spiral, sure that this was a sign he wasn’t meant to act. Now, though, it just feels like an adrenaline drop, a heaviness in his stomach and a cold wave rolling up and over his shoulders. 

“Oh, well, thank you so much for the opportunity. I can’t wait to see how it turns out--what I saw of the script was excellent.” 

“Thanks, Steve. I’m glad to hear you enjoyed the script.”

Steve knows he shouldn’t, there’s no point, but he can’t help himself from asking. “Do you know...do you mind me asking, who the part went to?”

“Oh, well, we’re announcing it later today, so I guess there’s no harm in me telling you.”

Again, Steve feels himself hold in a breath.

“Bucky Barnes.”

+++

At first he thinks it’s a sad coincidence, some sort of cosmic joke. Of course Bucky gets a part he wants. It’s happened before, after all. Bucky swooping in a getting a role Steve thought was his. 

But then it keeps happening. And it’s not always Bucky getting the parts. Sometimes Steve is cast over Bucky. Sometimes someone else is cast over the both of them. In fact, when Steve gets to the Shield and Co. offices following an invitation from a producer, he sees Bucky for what is probably the tenth time in the past month. They always seem to be running parallel to one another, going out for the same parts at the same time, or standing against opposite walls at the same party. They’ve grown friendlier as the time has passed, exchanging genuine smiles and waves, even stopping to talk if they both have the time. 

They are creeping ever closer to being friends, which is why Steve feels himself brighten when he pushes into the office and finds Bucky inside. 

“Oh, hey, James! How are you?”

Bucky is Bucky in his mind, probably always will be. He was Bucky in high school, after all. But it seems that in adulthood, in the business of acting, and especially with people like Steve who are not yet friends, he is James. 

That is not to say that Bucky ever looks unhappy to see Steve, or seems to not want to be friends. They are just not yet fully over that threshold, in terms of knowing one another as adults. They don’t spend nearly enough time together to be friends by proximity, either. 

“I’m good, Steve,” Bucky responds. “And how are you? I must say you’re looking excellent today,” Bucky says with a sly grin. 

Steve flushes. “Um, yeah, thanks. Do you--I was looking for Robert. Have you seen him?”

Bucky shakes his head. “No, I haven’t. I’m looking for him too, funnily enough.”

There’s a sound, and the two men turn to see Robert peeking his head through the door.

“Ah, boys, I see you’ve found each other. Excellent. I have some exciting news for the both of you.”

Robert steps through the door, pulling it closed behind him. He shuffles to the other side of his desk, gesturing at the two empty chairs opposite him.

“Please, take a seat.” He adjusts his position in the chair. “Now, I called you both in here because I’ve heard through the grapevine that you’ve known each other for a while, and that you both have some experience with our source material. As you both may or may not know right now, we’re in pre-production for a Hamlet mini-series. You’ve both done Hamlet before, correct?”

Steve feels himself nod, and sees in his periphery Bucky nodding alongside him. “You two both came to us with previous experience with this particular work of Shakespeare’s, and both of your auditions--although we didn’t really tell you they were auditions at the time, now did we?--were utterly compelling. Unfortunately, obviously, we can’t cast you both for the same role. I wanted to break the news in person because we did honestly have such a hard time choosing between the both of you, and you’re both so qualified. You could both probably do it as a solo show if you really wanted.”

Robert pauses, folding his hands on top of the desk with a certain sense of expectancy. “Now, the big things with this play, so I’ve heard, is who gets to play the young men. Prince Hamlet, Laertes, Horatio, all those guys. So without further adieu…” 

Robert gives a light drumroll against the desk, and for a moment Steve is back in time, in the hallway of his high school. Harsh lighting and weak air conditioning surround him, his clothes are ill-fitting rags that hang off his frame. He is standing there, looking up at the casting list, searching searching searching for his name amongst the others. 

“Congratulations, James.”

Steve’s heart sinks. 

“You’ve been cast as Laertes.”

It lifts. 

“Steve, we’d love to have you on the project as Prince Hamlet.”

+++

After that, it is like this:

Things are a blur, for a few weeks. Contract negotiations and signings are quick - there’s nothing Steve wants so badly that he’ll refuse the role, and the production company is interested in making it a quick process, so things run smoothly. 

Most of the rest of the cast has already been found. It’s mostly new or unknown actors and actresses; Bucky is likely the most experienced cast member in terms of volume of work. He meets a few of his castmates: a petite woman named Sarah with a bright smile, and a tall, slender man who introduces himself as Nick. Both of them have only had professional work in commercials, but their local theater experience is extensive, and they seemed as thrilled as Steve is to bring a work of theater to the masses. 

A week after his contracts are officially signed and filed, Steve goes into the production office to take a look around. It is a sort of extended mini series, with ten 90 minute episodes planned. The proposed set designs are beautiful: brights and pastels all mixed together, a harlequin Wes Anderson sort of mash-up. Everything is designed to look almost like a theater stage, with intentionally visible spot markers and the occasional glimpse of the soundstage ceiling as the cameras shift to different shots. The costumes are beautiful too: velvets and lace and heeled wooden shoes. It was like nothing Steve had ever seen before. 

He has to move, temporarily. They all do. They’re filming the show in New York for a complicated list of reasons Steve will admit he doesn’t fully understand, but it means that he’ll be back in the city that’s closest to a home for him. 

Sam is excited for him, of course he is, but he’s sad to see him go. Steve packs most of his belongings into storage, keeping a few suitcases with him to live out of. They write his name off of the lease, and suddenly they are no longer roommates, not officially. 

There is a final dinner together, a teary goodbye, and then Steve if off. 

They're basically living in a hotel, short-term, for the duration of filming. Although it will be aired as a TV show, with a weekly, hour-long time slot, they're filming as though it's a film project, all in one go. The logic there, on part of the director and producers, is to best mimic the conditions of the stage for which the source material was intended. One long period of filming, with scenes and shots filmed in as close to chronological order as possible

The hotel is nice, nicer than any place Steve had ever stayed during a family vacation or the one, disastrous school trip to Washington D.C. The building itself is tall and lean, with something like forty floors, each defined by gleaming glass and bright beams of steel. Inside, the floors are covered in jewel-toned carpets, gold sconces and shining glass bulbs lighting the pale, cream-colored walls. The couches and chairs in the lobby are lush, the bed in his hotel room is memory foam, and the room-service menu is 17 pages long. Steve can't really complain. 

Although the luxury is nice, the hotel was chosen for a practical purpose as well. It's close to the soundstage where much of the show will be filmed. It also offers block reservations, allowing the cast and crew to be kept near one another in the massive building, facilitating easier communication and lessened transit times.

Bucky and Steve, by some bizarre yet at this point mostly unsurprising turn of events, are to be roommates for the next seven months. Steve is equal parts thrilled and terrified. He is excited about the prospect of getting to know, or re-know, Bucky Barnes. On a practical level, he always acts better when he’s comfortable about his castmates. And on a personal level, he’s willing to admit his slight obsession, at this point. He’s also slightly terrified that he’ll ruin it, or that Bucky will be a huge dick, or that any other number of things that can go wrong, will go wrong.

Bucky and Steve's room is on the seventeenth floor. It's a small suite, with a shared bedroom with two double beds, a living area, a large bathroom, and a small kitchenette--all made to look as glamorous as possible.

Every single material is luxe. Plush cream carpets on the floor contrasts the rich red wallpaper. Even the complimentary pens are luxurious, with gleaming gold tips and smooth black ink. 

They settle in easily despite the strangeness of their surroundings. Without much fuss Bucky takes the bed on the right, Steve the bed on the left. There are two closets, so those are claimed as well. The kitchen and living space are shared, but neither of them really brought anything to use in those spaces so they remain tidy but impersonal. 

Steve feels somewhat unmoored, like he did his first week of college, but there’s nothing much he can do at this point. He takes deep breath after deep breath and tries to focus on what he came here to do: his job. 

+++

Table reads for the first few episodes pass in a blur. Everyone is so lovely, and Shakespeare is so familiar to Steve. It feels like something he’s done before, feels like coming home, and leaves a gentle bloom of warmth in his chest.

The first day they’re filming on set--after all the blocking rehearsals, the sword-fighting lessons, costume fitting after costume fitting--barely feels real. Steve takes a moment, before he leaves his dressing room, to give himself a good look in the mirror.

He’s clean-shaven, pale skin turned milky white with the help of makeup. His collection of freckles on his nose, the thin scar on his chin from when he fell of his bike as a child, even the stress-induced pimple he always seems to get in the center of his forehead before big projects are all covered beneath a layer of foundation and white powder. His eyes are ringed with charcoal eyeshadow, dark and brooding against his skin, and his eyebrows have been waxed and tamed into two perfect arches. His lips and cheeks are rouged. Altogether, the makeup makes him look almost doll like. His normally honey blonde hair has been cropped close to his head and bleached a brighter blonde; it looks almost silver in the white light of his dressing room. 

He does his best to school his features into a look of bitterness, or anger. Steve will admit that playing the role of a young man scorned, who has had so many things stolen from him, hits too close to home from time to time. 

His actual costume is deceptively simple. He’s wearing a white cotton blouse with silver threads running through the fabric, making it glitter as he shifts and moves. Over top is an impeccably fitting black vest, and a long black sportcoat which brushes the tops of his thighs. The buttons on both the vest and coat are a beautiful silver, with careful etching depicting the delicate petals of a flower. He wears tight black trousers to complete the look, feet encased in patent black boots with a sharply pointed toe and a sturdy three inch heel. 

His throat is covered by three silver chains of varying length and thickness. Each one has a different charm at the end: a skull, a snarling lion, a rose on a thorned stem. His nails are short and perfectly shaped, painted a glossy charcoal, and there are silver rings on every single finger. Most of them are plain, with the exception of his middle left finger, which has a silver serpent winding its way towards his fingertip. They’d toyed with the idea of giving him a few piercings--a lip ring maybe, or a bar through his eyebrow--but ultimately decided against it to Steve’s incredible relief. He can appreciate the aesthetic they’re going for, but he’s never been a big fan of pain or needles or really anything that seems to be involved in the process of piercing. 

The whole ensemble, together, makes him look glamorous, makes him look powerful, makes him look sort of evil. He looks like the troublesome prince of a powerful kingdom. Looking at himself in the mirror, for the first time since this whole thing had finally become real in his mind, that perhaps he was a good choice for this role after all. 

He is excited to do this, he realizes with a start. The crew are excellent, the sets and costumes are excellent, and his castmates all seem to be incredibly confident, incredibly skilled, and equally enthused about the project. Steve cannot wait to see what this show becomes. 

+++

Hamlet, Season 1 of 1, Episode 1, Scene 1  
Written by Joshua Clint

The scene is black at first, although light is gradually introduced from the lower lefthand corner. Black slowly fades to gray, and the outlines of several figures gradually come into view. There are three men, all dressed plainly, standing with their backs to a fence. 

The ground is dark and flat and littered with a dusting of snow. The fence is tall and metallic, with tall spikes curving over the top. Through the gaps in the bars a large home is visible. It is lit from within by the warm light of a fireplace, light stone walls gleaming in the shadows. Tufts of black grass spot the space between the fence and the house, casting eerie shadows like the legs of spiders against the ground. 

A statue looms over the scene, resting upon a large concrete block. It is tall and proud, depicting a former king. The plaque at it’s feet declares it a monument to the late King Hamlet. 

The three men are clearly guardsmen. They wear plain clothing of rough fabric, all dyed the same unidentifiable shade of brown-grey-black. Over the top of their tunics and trousers are long shirts of chainmail. Each man has a small round shield strapped to his back and a thin spear in his hand. Their heads are covered by thin metal helmets, strapped down with leather strips which run under their chins. Their expressions are bored, disinterested, and each man takes a turn to shiver in the cold air, as though they are on a timer. 

The scene is eerily silent, no background music or doctored sounds to fill the space. The clink of the men’s chainmail is muffled, and none take a step into the snow. 

Suddenly, as though coming from everywhere and nowhere at once, there is a sound like fabric in the wind. A whooshing sound, almost, spirals up around the men and enters their ears. One at a time, all down the line, the guardsmen stand to attention, eyes growing wide underneath the brims of their metal helmets. 

Silently they turn to face one another, eyes widening and brows lifting in silent question. Seeing no explanation from their peers they turn back to explore the space around them. One looks up, one looks down, and one turns behind himself to look at the dimly lit home across the snowy and barren field. 

Without warning the screen is filled with a wispy, white film, obscuring the image of the three men. The camera angle changes, for the first time, to show the viewer what it is the guardsmen are looking at. 

It is the likeness of a man, floating a few yards off the ground. Nearly ten feet tall, he is dressed in ornate robes and his head sports a heavy crown. Made of the white smoke, he still commands a presence as though he is of solid form. He rises higher, arms stretching out wide side to side, and opens his mouth as if to speak.

The screen fades back to black and the muffled screams of the guardsmen can be heard. The screen fills with white lettering spelling out H-a-m-l-e-t. 

+++

Acting with Bucky again is a revelation. 

Back in highschool, he had been so caught up in his bitterness to really appreciate Bucky’s talent for what it was: raw and natural.

Now, though, that he’s free from all those old traps of the mind, he can fully immerse himself in the experience. He’s had the opportunity to work, in a professional capacity, with actors both talented and untalented. Steve can say with great certainty that he prefers working with talented actors. Bucky is certainly that. 

It is more than that, though.

Something Steve has missed in his professional career is the camaraderie that developed during productions and shows when he was in highschool and college. There was competition, yes, and obviously not everyone could be friends all the time. But at the same time there was an attitude of “we’re all in this together” and a sense of friendship and teamwork, the sense that you were a small part of something much larger than yourself, which Steve has had a difficult time finding as an adult in the theatre. 

Something about working with Bucky, and with all the other castmates, if he’s being honest, has brought that back. 

Steve feels far more comfortable in front of the camera than he has in a long while. He feels more willing to try new things, to take things further, to act with the kind of fearlessness you only develop when you are among friends. 

He feels like a better actor when he is working with Bucky. It’s a good feeling. 

+++

Sometimes, if he really thinks about it, Steve can see he and Bucky being friends, back when they were younger. They’d both lost important things, and they’d both, somewhat without reason, turned to the stage to fill the void. 

Sometimes, when it’s late at night, Steve can see he and Bucky being more, now. 

+++

"My words fly up, my thoughts remain below;  
Words without thoughts never to heaven go."

III.III.38-74, Hamlet, William Shakespeare

+++

The first person beyond the costume designers to see Steve in this particular outfit is Bucky, and his initial reaction is to burst out laughing.

“Ha ha ha, very funny. Don’t forget you have to wear this too.” 

That stops Bucky’s laughter, although a smile remains. “Excuse you, Steve, but I look good in anything.”

That’s true, Steve thinks, but wisely keeps to himself. He drums a few anxious fingers against his chest plate. 

He’s wearing a fencing outfit. Today they’re finally filming the climactic fencing duel between Laertes and Prince Hamlet that sets in motion the beginning of the end for Prince Hamlet, the uncovering of the lies and plotting which have plagued court throughout the play. 

He’s got on tight black trousers with this red stripes along the sides. The trousers connect to a white wifebeater that’s frankly indecent: low cut and sheer. Over top are padded sleeves and a white chest plate. In his hand he carries a fencing helmet. 

It’s true that Bucky will eventually have to wear the same thing, but right now he’s in a hoodie and a ratty pair of sweatpants. Prior to beginning this project, Steve had always seen Bucky in proper suits or tailored casual menswear. Somehow along the way Steve had gotten it in his head that those were the sort of clothes Bucky enjoyed wearing in his day-to-day life. Through the process of filming the show, he quickly learned that this was not the case. Bucky goes for comfort whenever possible, to the point that Steve sometimes has to remind him that while many of his clothes may be excellent for lounging, they are not exactly suited to being worn in public.

It’s been an interesting experience relearning and redoing these scenes that they’ve done before. They know the play, and they know the characters, and they’ve been given the opportunity to change some things. But so many elements have stayed the same as well. 

Steve feels like he’s constantly walking the line between past and present, in a disconcerting sort of way. He’s switched roles, and that’s not the hard part. It’s seeing Bucky and not feeling an immediate welling of bitterness is his chest that’s truly putting him on edge. 

+++

There’s about a quarter left of filming to do for the series when they start the press junket. 

Steve had thought he was well-versed in the media, that he knew what to expect. Clearly he had never worked on a project quite of this caliber, because the press days are like nothing he has ever seen. 

The morning of the first round of interviews, he wakes up at 5:30 am with a pounding headache. He groans, rolls out of bed, and shuffles into the kitchen. He gets a glass of water and downs it, then another, before he finally starts to feel something close to awake and alive. He grabs a bowl and spoon from the cabinet and pours himself a bowl of cereal, eating it dry because he drank the last of the milk last night. He gets up to put the bowl in the sink as Bucky stumbles into the room, looking half-asleep. He’s in a ratty pair of sweatpants and the stained t-shirt he always wears to the makeup trailer. His hair had been pulled back at one point, it seems, but now most of it hangs low around his face in tangles and wild strands. 

“Morning,” he mumbles, voice thick with sleep. 

Steve nods a response, still not quite awake, and heads back into his room to gather his things for the day. 

The next time he sees Bucky is after they have both been dressed and coiffed and pressed. Steve is in a light blue dress shirt and slim fitting charcoal trousers. The shirt is pressed and starched to a stiffness beyond what Steve had previously thought possible, gold cufflinks at the cuffs and pearlescent buttons down the front. The collar of his shirt rubs against the back of his neck where his hair meets his skin, leaving a thin red line in his skin. His trousers fall just to the top of his impeccably shined shoes. His hair had been combed and gelled and sprayed until it lays perfectly against his head. 

Bucky is in a deep green sweater, the top of a bright and clean white t-shirt peeking out through the collar. He is in a pair of tight, dark wash jeans, with stylish brown suede brogues on his feet. His hair is down, combed and glossed and styled until it hangs in perfect waves to the tops of his shoulders. It is tucked behind his ears, allowing the silver cuffs in both of his ears to be seen. 

They are ushered into the first room and told to sit on a pair of stools. The room is dark, swathed in heavy fabric, with a large version of the first promotional poster behind them. There is an empty chair, this one with a back, opposite their stools. They chat quietly for a few moments before the first interviewer comes in. He’s a young man, with a round face and short-cropped hair. His expression is open and is smile is bright as he approaches them.

“Hey, guys. Nice to meet you,” the man offers, reaching out with a hand. Both Steve and Bucky shake and offer their greetings in return. The man settles into the chair, adjusting his tie and smiling widely in that way most journalists can. “My name’s Nick, from ES Weekly. It’s great to meet you guys, I really love your work.”

Steve feels himself break into a smile, unbidden, as he usually does when given a compliment. He can’t help it, really, simply feels the buzz of happy-pleased-embarrassed work it’s way up his neck and around his jowl, contorting his mouth into a small smile against his wishes. 

Bucky has always handled compliments better than he has, as he demonstrates by offering a quick but genuine “thank you,” not a blush or stutter in sight.

The interviewer shuffles the papers in his hands, settling on a white sheet with a series of typed questions. “It’s my understanding that we’ve got fifteen minutes together before the next interview time slot, so I’ll try and move through some questions quickly. We’ll do a little round of quick-fire for our YouTube channel, and then we’ll do a few more in-depth questions for an article. Sound good?”

Both men nod. 

“Alright, Bucky first. Some quick-fire, just say the first thing that comes to mind, alright?”

Bucky nods, and the man shuffles the cards in his hands. He nods at someone behind them, likely operating the camera or sound or something of that nature, before launching into the questions. 

“First off, dogs or cats?”

Bucky’s answer comes quickly: “Dogs. Or maybe cats. Can I say both?”

The interviewer smiles and nods. 

“Sure you can. Now, moving on. Morning or evening?”

Steve can’t help himself. He starts to laugh, image of Bucky stumbling into the kitchen this morning clear in his mind. Bucky whacks him on the chest while answering: “Evening, I think.”

The interviewer chuckles, sending them both a look. “Is there a story there?” he asks. 

Bucky reddens, and Steve lets out another huff of laughter. “We’re roommates currently, for the press tour. And for most of filming, I guess. From everything I’ve seen Bucky is not a morning person. He’s, um, definitely an evening person.”

The interviewer nods. “Fair enough. With all the work you guys are doing, I’m sure anyone would be tired. Now, a few more questions. Salty or sweet?”

“Salty.”

“Hot drinks or cold drinks?”

“Um...cold drinks, I think.”

“Star Wars or Star Trek?”

“Oh, jeez. Both?” 

The interviewer chuckles again, shifting the papers in his hands. “Nice, alright. Steve, you’re up. The first thing that comes to mind, alright?”

Steve nods and shifts how he’s sitting in his chair. Questions like these always make him nervous, like he’s somehow going to give the wrong answer even though they’re about his own preferences. He remembers, even in middle school, feeling nervous while filling out those dumb quizzes you’d find in magazines or on the back of cereal boxes. This is similar, only worse. 

The presence of Bucky beside him is comforting, at least. 

“Summer or Winter?”

“Summer.”

“Hamburger or Hot Dog?”

“Oh, um, hamburgers, definitely.”

“East Coast or West Coast?”

“Well I’m from New York so East Coast for sure.”

“Yes or No?”

“Yes.”

“Okay, this is an important one, Edward or Jacob?”

“Can I say neither?”

The interviewer throws his head back and laughs at that answer. 

“Awesome, thanks so much for that, guys. We get about half of our total online traffic on our YouTube channel now, so this will be awesome. Now, for the actual interviewing part…” He trails off and laughs. “The things I do for this job, man. I have a few questions for both of you. I figure we can bounce back and forth, if that works. This will be quick, I promise.”

Both Bucky and Steve nod and adjust their stools. The one’s that they’ve been given are plastic and hard and too small to sit on top of comfortably. 

The interviewer turns to Bucky first. He raises his eyebrows, as though to ask a question, and lifts his shoulders as well. Bucky smiles and shifts to face him, a silent response.

“Now, Bucky, you’ve had experience in both television and film. How does this kind of series, with a finite storyline but an episode format, compare to television or film?”

Bucky pauses for a moment, pondering his answer. He opens his mouth, then closes it, then opens it again before he starts to speak.

“This is really the sweet spot, for me. I wasn’t sure how I’d take to it, but I’ve absolutely loved this format. I really enjoy, like, episodes, because they help me organize my thoughts about the character, split up the energy. But the finite storyline is nice because there’s an end, you know? Sometimes TV can be a lot, because you never know where in the story arc you are, if that makes sense.”

Nick nods. “That does make a lot of sense. Now, Steve, what has been your favorite scene to film thus far, if you can answer that without giving too much away?”

Steve tilts his head to the side, eyes going up to the ceiling. He can never think and make eye contact with someone. 

“Ooooh, that’s a good question. I think one of my favorite scenes to film that we’ve done so far was Prince Hamlet’s first soliloquy. That was super fun to film. We kept it the same word for word from the original play. We’ve been changing up some stuff but this we totally kept. I felt like--well, I should say that one of my favorite things is feeling like I’ve gotten to know my characters, like I’ve really become them, in a way. So it was super cool to do such a challenging and complex scene and have it only be me, for the most part. I felt like by the end of it I knew so much more about Prince Hamlet as a character, so that was cool. 

+++

He feels bad, at first, like he’s cheating on Sam. Things between Steve and Sam have never been particularly romantic, with the unfortunate exception of that first, terrible date, but it’s true that living together has cultivated a deep and close friendship which, up until now, guaranteed that Sam was the first and only person Steve thought of when considering the words “best friend.”

But something with Bucky is different. 

There is the shared past, certainly, and the shared love of the stage. But there is also, Steve suspects, a mutual want involved in their friendship. Steve has learned over the past few weeks, months, years that the life of an actor can be incredibly isolating--jumping from one place to another, always pretending to be someone you are not, meeting people for short periods of time, enough to learn basic information but not enough to truly grow close. 

Sam has his own life, his own family and friends. He has a stable work life and a well-crafted sense of personal identity. Steve, on the other hand, has often defined himself against others. Son-of-Sarah, friend-of-Sam…he has a hard time thinking of himself as simply Steve. 

But Bucky is the same. He has been an actor, in the professional sense, for far longer than Steve. He desires the same closeness, and the length and location of this particular project are allowing, in a surprising way, for that desired thing to be found. The close quarters, the long filming schedule, all of it serves to force all those involved in this project together. 

+++

Whenever they go to Hollywood parties, the big and lavish ones thrown by people who own houses with too many bedrooms, Steve feels he does not fit it. Guests at these kinds of parties are wealthy, they are glamorous, and they are rich (or famous, although it seems to Steve that more and more, one leads directly to the other, and thus far both are far more likely to be found.) He is still not used to the kind of wasteful spending that goes hand in hand with these events, with the kind of lifestyle where income is disposable and unlimited. He finds himself feeling too big, too poor, and too boring to ever truly fit into the lives of the people around him. 

These parties are better with Bucky there, he must admit. Moving into a hotel room together seemed to signal to Bucky that they were ready to move onto the next stage in their friendship, despite never really getting to the first stage. Steve becomes Bucky's wingman, his partner-in-crime at these events, helping him schmooze. 

They stick close together, introducing one another to acquaintances, taking turns filling each others’ glasses. Steve learns quickly that these parties are far more tolerable with a bit of liquid courage, especially on the rare occasion Bucky cannot attend or leaves Steve alone to talk to someone else. Steve develops a fondness for sweet drinks, a margarita or tequila sunrise almost always in his hand. Bucky, on the other hand, prefers either a beer or a glass of straight whiskey at these events. 

While mostly uncomfortable, Steve does occasionally meet other people he quite likes. He finds he tends to like talking to fashion designers, as he always finds their way of thinking about art and beauty and the human form to be so developed. It also probably helps that he’s a major lightweight, having gone without alcohol for the entirely of high school and college due to medications and then a lack of interest. With the new reality of his career, however, alcohol seems to be a way of life, and thus he partakes.

It is after one of these events that they fall into bed together, for the first time. They don’t share the bed like that, merely lay side by side on top of the covers, suits still on, watching the patterns of the ceiling swirl and dance above them. It is late night, and he is drunk, and he is tired, and Steve does nothing to stop himself when he feels himself roll over, towards Bucky, and place his head into the cradle of Bucky’s shoulder. He is warm, like this, and comfortable, and he falls easily asleep.

They do not talk about it, distracted first by their hangovers, and then their work, and then too much time has passed for it to make sense. So they keep their mouths shut. 

And yet there seems to have been an unspoken agreement, some sort of shift in their dynamic, because now the second bed in their hotel room goes unused except as a place to leave clothes, and Steve spends nearly every night with his head pillowed on Bucky’s chest. Steve enjoys physical closeness, and Bucky seems to too, so this new arrangement seems to work for the both of them. 

+++

Steve dreams, sometimes, of what could happen between him and Bucky. He dreams of how he might ask him to clarify what he feels for Steve, if there is any chance that the two of them might move beyond platonic friendship. 

He dreams of asking him out for coffee, or perhaps out for dinner. Cliche though those dates might be, he thinks Bucky might enjoy that sort of classic thing. He pictures where they might go. To the local coffeeshop down the street? Or to a Starbucks? Bucky has a fondness for frappucinos, Steve has learned, especially the ones that are more chocolate than coffee. 

He can picture it clearly, for a moment, the two of them sitting across from one another at a small bistro table. Talking, laughing, smiling...many of the things they do now, but with a different edge. 

Steve imagines what exactly he might say. How he might phrase it. 

He could be direct, just come out and ask him if he’d like to go out on a date. Or he could be more subtle, ask if he might want to hang out some time, just the two of them, maybe go and do something special. 

He is struck, while thinking about it, how infrequently he has done things like this. He cannot really remember the last time he asked someone on a date, the last time he was dating someone. 

Something must be special this time around, that he is even entertaining the thought. 

+++

Other things change before Steve really has a chance to notice them.

Bucky becomes his point person, at first because he is close and then simply because it makes sense. He stops reaching for his phone, to call Sam or Natasha, and starts turning to Bucky instead. 

They develop daily routines, little dances that only the two of them seem to understand. 

When they get up in the morning, Steve rises first and goes immediately to the kitchen to make coffee. He fills the pot and sets it to boil and then cycles back into the bedroom to shake Bucky awake. Once they’re both up Bucky heads into the kitchen to pour the coffee and start on breakfast while Steve makes the bed. 

When they eat together Steve always takes the chair facing away from the window because his eyes are sensitive to the sun. Steve always sets the table and Bucky always serves the food. Steve drinks one cup of coffee and Bucky drinks two, the first with cream and the second without. 

After breakfast Steve clears the plates while Bucky fills the sink, and then they stand side by side and hand wash the dishes. They leave them to air dry on the drying rack and head back to the bedroom section of the hotel room. Steve is a night showerer so he gets the bathroom first, brushing his teeth and combing his hair before leaving it open for Bucky. Bucky showers while Steve gets dressed, then the two of them gather in the living room to review lines or blocking instructions or whatever else they might need for the day.

The routines develop over time without much intentional coordination. It is so familiar and domestic that it leaves a warm feeling in Steve’s chest whenever he thinks about it, a little glow of happiness at how close the two of them have grown as adults. 

(It feels so much like they are a pair, like they are a family, that sometimes his thoughts run away from him and before long he is imagining things that perhaps he shouldn’t.)

+++

When he finally does it, it was nothing like what he was expecting. 

They are laying out on the couch, heads pillowed on different armrests but legs interwoven like the strands of a basket. Bucky is watching the football game on the television with a wistful look in his eyes, as he always does, and Steve is staring at the book held open in his lap. He’s not reading it, simply practicing his words, gathering the courage in little bits and whispers until the words all but fall out of his mouth. 

“Hey, Bucky?”

“Yeah, Steve?”

“Would you ever wanna go get coffee, or something?”

“Like a date?”

“Yeah, like a date.”

“Sure.” 

+++

When it happens, when it really, finally, truly happens, It happens like this:

They go out for lunch. There is a sandwich shop around the corner from the hotel, with black and white tiled floors and vinyl booths and framed, colorful posters lining the walls. They take a back corner booth, away from the windows. It’s lit in yellow from the light above, with ratty napkins and a half-empty ketchup bottle tucked against the menus. Steve orders a club sandwich with fries and Bucky orders a Rachel with chips. They both order a Coke, which come first, plastic cups with plastic straws filled to the brim with bubbling soda. 

The tabletop is covered in pictures and drawings all sandwiched under a thick slab of glass. Steve traces them with his fingertip while they wait for their food, jumping from face to face to face with his eyes. Some of the images are of smiling families sat at the counter of the diner, massive malts on the counter in front of them. Others are of the restaurant’s fare: massive pizzas, baskets of fries, or sandwiches wrapped in wax paper. 

They talk for hours. About high school, about college, about their post-college lives. Steve tells the tale of his first film in all it’s shirtless glory, and Bucky describes what it felt like waking up in the hospital after his accident. Old roommates, weird parties, awkward fan encounters...they share all of them while sitting across from one another in a vinyl booth. There are moments of awkwardness, but they are few and far between. The afternoon is commanded by the ease and warmth of their usual interactions, their history of friendship shining through any overlong pauses or lulls.

And it’s weird, okay, it’s weird, to be dating someone you already live with, already know so much about. But it turns out Bucky’s first boyfriend was his roommate freshman year of college, so this isn’t his first rodeo, as it turns out.

They go back to their hotel room afterwards with the intention of watching something on Netflix, maybe. Steve has promised to dig out his old yearbooks and playbills (which, inexplicably, he brought with him, as though perhaps some part of him knew this would happen) to see if there are any pictures of the two of them, back then. 

Once they’re inside the apartment, they don’t make it far. The couch in less than ten feet from the door. They sit and turn on the television, but Steve hasn’t even picked up the remote when Bucky is placing a gentle hand on his shoulder, on his chin, turning his head to face him and pressing their lips together gently once, twice. 

Steve can feel himself smiling dumbly, cheeks warm and a flutter in his core. He lets Bucky kiss him once, twice, three more times, and then he kisses him in return. Steve lets himself lay back against the cushions, warmth heavy in his gut. Together, they stay on the couch until it is dark. 

+++

OPHELIA’S FLOWERS  
Published May 13, 7:56 am

Josh Gladwell’s new production of Hamlet has stirred a great deal of interest in the Shakespeare classic. One of the most memorable scenes of the play is when Ophelia, the mad former-lover of Prince Hamlet, creates a bouquet of flowers to symbolize her feelings. The language of flowers is a complex one; one which is difficult to understand and even more difficult to employ. 

As a result, we’ve compiled a quick and easy guide to understanding the flowers used by Ophelia. Not only does this understanding enrich the experience of everyone reading or watching the Shakespeare classic, it also explains many of the mysterious and flower-related episode titles used in Hamlet. Keeping reading if you’re interested in unlocking the secrets of Ophelia’s flowers. 

In her bouquet Ophelia includes rosemary, pansies, fennel, columbine, rue, and daisies. She goes out of her way to note the lack of violets. These particular flowers have significant meanings both in terms of the plot and of Ophelia's mental and emotional state. Rosemary stands for remembrance, while pansies stand for thoughts. Fennel often represents flattery, while columbine tends to represent adultery. Rue stands for pity and daisy stands for false love, Violets, which are lacking in the bouquet, stand for faithfulness. 

We hope that this simple intro to the language of flowers will improve your viewing experience, or simply provide you with some new knowledge. Special thanks to our friends at The Flowershop for consulting with us on this article!

+++

And so it begins. 

Steve, before, this, had never really understood what people meant when they described (and he hesitates even thinking it to himself) falling in love. 

Steve is not the kind of man who has ever needed anyone. He will accept companionship, certainly, and he does not actively wish to be alone, but the fact of the matter is that he has missed and craved and wished for the sort of togetherness which he can have with Bucky, right now. 

He feels like he is falling, like he is melting into this new person next to him. 

+++

They don’t hide it, at first, but then they don’t say anything to anyone either. It seems too new to speak of themselves in terms of years, yet, or really any length of time. And it is still an event to come out, if you will, to surprise people with the identity of your romantic partner. 

Filming is drawing to a close, just a few more weeks of reshoots and polishing work and then the whole thing will be beyond them, moved into post-production. Aware of the certainty of change looming, they cling to the possibility of routine, going to the same coffeeshop or using the same shampoo or falling asleep at the same time everyday. 

+++

Steve, as Prince Hamlet, stands before Bucky, as Laertes, breathing heavily from the fight and argument they have just had. The scene is brightly lit, but both actors know that the lights are set to dim as the dialogue progresses. 

This scene is supposed to be Prince Hamlet accepting the potential for death. He’s coming to terms with the ending of his life. He clearly thinks Laertes is a great man, despite any disagreements they may have had. Earlier the Prince had whispered to Horatio that he is alright with being killed by such a man.

(Steve often finds the parallels between this play and his own life to be off putting. Here he is, whispering to Horatio, his greatest friend, that he will accept death it if is at the hands of as great a man as Laertes. Just last week he was on the phone with Sam, perhaps truly his greatest friend, speaking of the things he is willing to forgo if it means he can remain with Bucky for just a few moments longer.)

Steve, as the Prince, says that everything is in the hands of God - one of the few religious references the writers have allowed - and that everything will work out in the end. The usage of dust as a metaphor for death is a motif of both television show and original script. After all, what will be, will be, and either way it hardly matters because we’ll all turn to dust in the end. 

Steve delivers his final line and then stands there, shaking. He can feel Bucky standing close to him, feel the heat radiating off of his body. Somewhere beyond himself he hears the Director call cut, feels the breath rushing past his lips. In the moment, all he can focus on is Bucky. 

+++

A SHAKESPEAREAN TRAGEDY

...The play, Hamlet, and its many adaptations is nothing if not a classic example of a Shakespearean Tragedy. A Shakespearean Tragedy is, unsurprisingly, a tragedy authored by Shakespeare. Characterized by its inclusion of a noble protagonist who is flawed in some way, this protagonist is often placed in a stressful and heightened situation which ends with a fatal conclusion. 

In the instance of Hamlet, the indecisive Prince Hamlet plays as the flawed protagonist. His efforts to seek revenge for the murder of his father, as well as the stress of impending attack by Young Fortinbras, serve as the stressful situation under which he will cave. The fatal conclusion results from Hamlet’s accidental murder of Polonius, among other things: Ophelia goes mad, before drowning herself; Laertes attempts to take over the crown; Claudius and Laertes plan for the death of Hamlet; Gertrude is poisoned with wine meant for Hamlet; Claudius, Laertes, and Hamlet all die by each other's hands; Fortinbras is able to take the Danish Throne. Much of the tragedy in the play comes in the form of tragic irony - if characters had learned something just a bit sooner, perhaps all could have been saved…

Excerpt from “Shakespearean Genres” by Marcus Grady, published 1978

+++

Steve realizes with a shock one day that he hasn’t really made any plans for what he’ll do when this whole thing is over, which is pretty ridiculous. He is a grown, adult man who has experience in the real world, working and living and existing on his own, and yet he has no idea where he will live or what he will do. 

The Prince has been an incredible experience, don’t get him wrong. He has loved all of it, and yet it has also left him feeling a little drained. His paycheck was large enough, and his exhaustion is significant enough (never mind the press tour that is to come) that he does not feel a pressure to begin work immediately. In terms of where to live, he can really go anywhere. He could move back in with Sam, or live on his own, or continue his current living arrangement with a more permanent setting. 

He asks Bucky about it, one night, as they are washing their dinner dishes in the sink. 

“Hey, Buck?” he asks. 

Bucky sets down the wet plate in his hand, and turns to face him. “Yeah, Steve?” 

He takes in a heavy breath, steadying himself against the counter. He feels oddly off-balance, nervous, although he tells himself that whatever Bucky says in response to his question won’t change anything between them, hopefully-possibly-maybe. He lets the air in his lungs push out past his lips, making a faint whine as it whistles out. 

“What are your plans, ya know, for when this is over? Like, for living and stuff?” he finally asks. 

Bucky’s hands still in the sink. “I was gonna move back into my old apartment, I guess.” He says slowly. He shrugs carefully, as though if he moves too quickly Steve will fall to pieces beside him. It might not be far from the truth. “My sister’s been house sitting for me.”

Steve feels very, very small. “Oh.”

Bucky’s shoulders tense, shoulder blades drawing together, like they always do when he’s working himself up to saying something. “There’s--well, only if you wanted, but--there’s room, there. If you wanted to come with me. Move in, and stuff. If you want.”

Steve feels himself smile, without control. “Yeah, uh, I think I’d like that.”

+++

And so that’s what they do: move in together, for real this time. 

Bucky’s apartment is in a calmer neighborhood--or, as calm of a neighborhood as you can get in LA. It’s near a school, and a park, surrounded by young families in apartments or small condos. There are local shops nearby, a coffee shop down the street, and a bus line right outside their door. It’s everything Steve has ever wanted, in the way that he didn’t know it was perfect until he arrived.

Best of all, most of their neighbors leave them alone. In the scheme of things, they're not that famous, nor are they particularly recognizable while walking around on the street, out of context of their various characters. The kind of uncomfortable, watched feeling Steve always experienced pre-The Prince never seems to return, to his endless happiness.

The space itself quickly becomes their apartment in a way Steve and Sam’s apartment was never truly theirs together, collectively. Their laundry is all mixed together, they share the same chest of drawers, and there is only one bedroom that is actually used. The kitchen cabinets are not split into Bucky’s and Steve’s things; there is only one coffeemaker, because they like their coffee the same way. 

Bucky throws out his old bed, and together they buy a nicer mattress with custom pillows. They are comfortable and soft, and something about what they represent makes them the best things Steve has ever slept on. It feels so adult, like such an adult commitment, to buy a bed together. The frame is new and functional, a simple slab of dark wood. It is nothing like the cheap metal frame Steve slept on before. The contrast is meaningful, Steve thinks.

Slowly but surely they redecorate the living room. It fills with pictures of them, of them with their friends and family, and of them with their other workmates. Bucky scours local flea markets for ornate pillows, because he loves things like that. Steve thinks their unnecessary--they aren’t comfortable, after all--but tolerates them because of they way they make Bucky’s face light up. 

The apartment grows character slowly. It’s warm in the winter, despite the fact that LA never really gets that cold. It becomes a bit of a bubble, an oasis. It’s their home, after all. People speculate all sorts of things--it’s the nature of people and their jobs, after all--but none of those whispers ever seem to follow them through the front door. 

Steve can’t help but feel that it’s too good to be true. 

+++

Steve + Bucky @sTuCkYtRaSh  
It would honestly make my day is #stucky would just admit they’re together

Rosie McClane @cominuproses  
Guys #stucky are literally so cute in these press interviews

USofA Weekly @usaweekly  
Spotted! Longtime friends Steve Rogers and Bucky Barnes out for lunch  
...pic.twitter/45tt67...

+++

When it finally happens, it happens like this:

They are out for a walk, on a rare day when it is not too warm or humid. 

The park near their apartment is surprisingly empty considering the weather. Light filters through the green leaves of the trees, speckling the pavement around them. Nearby, the same light reflects off of a small pond, coloring it green and grey and gold all at once. 

They are on one of the many thin pavement paths which wind through the park. They’re walking in and out of wooded areas, passing by patches of grass and beds of flowers. It has been so long since Steve has been outside like this, always rushing from indoor place to indoor place, urban setting to urban setting. 

It is bright and warm and the sun is shining, and Steve feels some well of emotion bubble up inside of him. He feels the seam of his mouth break into a smile, a rush of air comes through his nose like a laugh, and he can’t help it: he grabs for Bucky’s hand. 

It is such a little thing, innocuous, truly. It should barely matter. But they are well and truly famous now, and there has been speculation about their relationship for a few months now at least. And at the very least, this is a public space. 

They do not see the teenager, buried somewhere behind some bushes. He has his phone, unsurprisingly, and snaps a blurry photo from far away. Blurry, yes, but not so much that the faces of the two men are not distinguishable. 

+++

The photos are published a week later, on someone’s Twitter account. They spread like wildfire, as only things on the internet truly can. It’s on tumblr, on the gossip sites. It even ends up published in the National Enquirer. 

Neither of them really mind. They’d talked about it, in an abstract way. While not the most important element of their lives, who they love certainly does play a role in both their personal identities and how they interact with their work. It was bound to happen, for both of them, at some point in the future. 

But coming out, together with someone, seems like a big commitment. They will forever be linked together like this, no matter what becomes of their relationship in the future. Add to that the fact that there was no real choice in this, and the situation is not ideal. 

Steve frankly feels terrible about the whole thing, although he recognizes that it’s not truly his fault. It was an invasion of privacy, simple as that, and it is not and was not unreasonable for him to want to hold the hand of his boyfriend while enjoying a nice day out in public. But the fact of the matter is that something he did, taking Bucky’s hand, has put both of them in a rather unsavory position. 

There’s tension between them in the way that there isn’t tension, but both are expecting it from the other. Steve feels guilty, but he knows he shouldn’t, so he keeps making weak and aborted attempt to apologize. Bucky feels like he should be filled with some righteous anger or annoyance, but he isn’t, so he keeps trying to find reasons to fight. It’s a disaster, truly. 

It comes to a head when Sam gives Steve a call to tell him about the people camped outside his house. Someone must have dug up old photos of Sam and Steve together, and found where he lived somehow, and are now standing at the edge of his property yelling out questions about Sam and Steve. It’s ridiculous, and illegal, and the police are handling it already. But it makes Steve’s blood boil. 

“Buck, we have to say something. Or do something. I don’t know. This is ridiculous.”

“Sam can handle himself, Steve.” 

“That’s not the point! This whole thing is ridiculous!”

“Ridiculous? You think that we’re ridiculous?”

“You know that’s not what I meant, Buck. I just mean...how would you feel if it was Becca? Or your mom? Sam is important to me, and he has nothing to do with this relationship, and yet he’s suffering for it. That sucks.”

Bucky pauses, but Steve can tell he’s made his point. 

“Just...think about doing something for Sam, for me, okay?”

+++

James Barnes @JBBarnes  
In response to the recent speculation... pic.twitter/098po354

...An element of fame is accepting a more public role, and a greater degree of openness with people I have never met. While I have never gone out of my way to hide some things about my personal life, I have also not gone out of my way to share them. In response to the recent speculation, I’ve come to the conclusion that it is only fair for you all to hear some of these things. Yes, I am a member of the LGBTQ+ community, and yes, I do have a male partner. His name is Steve Rogers, and he is a very important person in my life. I only ask that you respect our privacy, and respect our decision to share this with you all. 

+++

INTERVIEW: STEVE ROGERS INTERVIEWED BY BUCKY BARNES  
Published October 18

Steve Rogers has had the kind of success story most of us can only dream of. A sickly child with a troubled childhood, Steve turned to the stage as a place of refuge, as a respite from the challenges of his home life. As an adult, his career has had highs and lows. Mostly, though, he's known for his stellar and moving performance in the indie cult nouveau classic, Impossible Other. This week, his new mini-series The Prince, based on the Shakespeare play Hamlet, premieres on CBS. Steve came in to talk about fame, family, and the things you should do will those things. Here he is interviewed by boyfriend and co-star, Bucky Barnes. 

Bucky: Hello, Steve.  
Steve: Hey, Buck.  
B: How are you doing today?  
S: I’m good, a little tired. And it’s hot out, but I kind of like that.  
B: The heat is definitely pretty rough. Thank God for air conditioning, you know?  
S: Oh yeah. Thank God.  
B: Alrighty, so, I’m here to interview you.  
S: Indeed you are.  
B: Why don’t you introduce yourself?  
S: Alright, I can do that. My name is Steve Rogers. I currently live in LA with my wonderful and loving boyfriend, but I grew up in and around NYC. Um, I’m an actor. Anything else I should add?  
B: Star sign? Favorite color? Pizza toppings?  
S: Um, well, I don’t actually know my star sign. Is that bad? Should I know that? I’ve always thought the word Capricorn was cool, but that doesn’t mean much. I’ve, um, always thought the color yellow was cool. I pretty much like all colors, though. My pizza toppings, well-I’m dairy free, so I don’t get cheese. I usually get regular crust with red sauce and sausage and hot peppers. It’s good, I swear.  
B: I still think your pizza is weird.  
S: Yeah, babe, I know.  
B: Now, about the show, tell me about the show.  
S: Well, a lot of this you’ll already know, but it’s, um, based on Hamlet. It pretty much is Hamlet, but we’ve toyed with the sets, with the costumes, with the setting, made it a little more sexy, a little more horror. It’s really cool.  
B: And who do you play?  
S: I play Prince Hamlet  
B: That’s a pretty big deal for you, isn’t it?  
S: It certainly is. Do you--do you think I should tell that story?  
B: Why not?  
S: Well, okay. What a lot of people don’t know is that Bucky and I went to highschool together. And we both did theater stuff, obviously. Our school had a big senior production every year, that was all senior acted, directed, all that stuff. It was a big deal for us theater kids, I guess. Anyways I did theater all the way through highschool, but Bucky got hurt junior year and that’s how he joined. Anyways we get to the end of senior year and I was sure I was gonna be cast as Prince Hamlet, because I’d been there the longest and I thought it made sense. But Bucky got cast as Prince Hamlet. I was so sad about it, honestly. Fast forward like 10 years and here we are. Finally got to be Prince Hamlet.  
B: But you got to be Prince Hamlet in London?  
S: I did get to be Prince Hamlet in London, which was amazing. But that was in college, and somehow it didn’t feel the same. Probably because you weren’t there.  
B: Aww babe.  
S: I mean because you weren’t there for me to beat you out for the role.  
B: Hurtful, Steve.  
S: I know, I’m sorry. I’m joking but I’m also being super serious. I can’t really explain how sad I was in high school not to get that part. And it’s not a huge deal, not the end of the world, but it totally informed how I went about my college theatre career, which informed by professional career. It’s all totally connected. And my competitiveness has definitely played a role in everything as well. So.  
B: That’s interesting. I’ve never thought about it like that, about it all being connected. I guess it’s kind of the same thing for me. Or, that that part played a role in my whole career. I totally wasn’t expecting to get the role of Prince Hamlet, and the surprise kind of convinced me I was good at acting. It made me seriously think about pursuing it as a professional thing, which is how I got here today, I guess.  
S: That’s wild.  
B: Yeah.  
S: I guess it is true after all, that high school matters.  
B: That’s a dangerous thing to say, Steve.  
S: I know. *winks*  
B: Now, I’ve been instructed to ask you about your inspirations or motivations.  
S: Oh, okay.  
B: Do you think...is there one kind of thing that really motivates you or inspires you while you’re working?  
S: I’d like to say that I’m not a super material person, so I feel like money or fame or awards aren’t a huge motivator for me. In terms of motivations it’s probably more people? Important people in my life definitely inspire me as well?  
B: If you don’t mind me asking, who are some important people in your life?  
S: Buck now you’re just fishing for compliments.  
B: No, but seriously. Who’s important? There’s me, obviously…  
S: *laughs*  
B: I was wondering...you should talk about-do you want to talk about your mom?  
S: I guess, yeah. It seems important. Or, it is important. I guess a lot of people don't know this, but my father passed away when I was very young, so I was effectively raised by a single parent, a single mother. She was a really lovely woman, so kind and so generous. She was an excellent mother. I think a lot of people also don’t know that I was pretty sick as a child, um, and taking care of me was definitely a full time job. But she did it. Um, yeah, she passed away when I was in college, which was obviously pretty difficult for me. She was my mom, she raised me, so was such an important part of my life and she was gone. So that sucked.  
B: Do you think--how does she motivate you?  
S: Well, I think, it’s kind of a pride thing, if that makes sense? Like, she’s not here to tell me she’s proud of me or that she approves of what I’m doing or how I’m acting, but I know who she was as a person. So I try and guide my actions based on what she would have wanted for me, because I trust her judgement and trust that she wanted what was best for me.  
B: What do you think she would think about the whole “being famous” part of your job?  
S: I certainly hope that my mother would be proud of everything I’ve done with my life, but I definitely don’t think that my being famous is one of those things she’d be crazy about.  
B: I feel like, and we’ve talked about this a lot, but people have this idea that famous people want to be famous, that they seek it out. What are your thoughts on that?  
S: Well, definitely when I was a kid, I wanted to be famous. I thought I'd like being famous. Interviews and media stuff, it all makes it seem like it's lots of fun, and that people who complain a ton are just complaining or whining or whatever. I thought I could fix all my problems if I was famous.  
B: Do you feel like the opposite has happened, that you’ve developed problems because of fame?  
S: Sort of. Not really. Most of the things I considered problems when I was a kid have sort of faded away. But the way it's worked for me, I've been alone for most of this, and I really think that makes it harder. It makes it harder. Because I can't go home to my family and feel normal again. And although being with you has been lovely and wonderful and amazing, we're in the same boat. You’re going through the same thing. It's worse when we're together, not better. That's been hard for the two of us to process.  
B: I definitely agree. We don’t have a home base away from the media and fame part of the job.  
S: It’s kind of like, and I hope people don’t take this the wrong way, but...we didn’t want to come out the way we did, or, like, reveal our relationship in the way. That whole thing was unplanned. And it was pretty much all because we were both considered famous and the media was interested in our personal lives and stuff like that. If we were normal people no one would have taken a photo of us in a park and then tweeted it, that just wouldn’t have happened. And I don’t regret it. And I certainly don’t regret you. But it does serve to highlight that the problems we might have now because of fame or whatever are only multiplied when we’re together.  
B: I’ve literally never thought of that, but it totally makes sense.  
S: Yeah.  
B: Now, the mood has gotten kind of somber. I’m gonna ask some fun questions now.  
S: Oooh, fun questions.  
B: Oh yeah, super fun. Now, first of all, what has been your favorite birthday?  
S: I really liked my last birthday. I went to MOMA with my friend Sam, and then went and got sushi. That was fun.  
B: Sounds fun, sounds fun. What is your favorite kid’s movie to watch?  
S: Oh man. Up, probably. Even though I cry every time.  
B: Who doesn’t?  
S: *laughs*  
B: Okay, okay, last one. Who is your favorite boyfriend?  
S: *laughs* That’d be you, Buck.  
B: Well there you go. Heard it here first. It’s been a pleasure chatting with you Steve.  
S: Of course, of course.  
B: I’ll see you...right after this, I guess.  
S: Indeed you will.  
B: Okay, bye Steve.  
S: Bye, Buck.


End file.
